Saturday 2nd May 2009

I awake early after another anxiety ridden dream in which I arrive at the apiary visit to find that I have forgotten to bring B and C's bee suits. I spend the rest of the visit avoiding them, which is easy because most of the day is spend watching a film in an enormous cinema. I then notice John down in the foyer, with James. He was supposed to have been visiting his daughter, so I am surprised to see them there. I rush down and tell him that he has to go straight home for the suits. He says that he has had an argument with his daughter, I ask if it was a bad one, and he says she was venomous. Golly - I guess I am more nervous than I thought! My step-daughter is the loveliest person you could meet, and doesn't have an ounce of venom in her body, so it's a bit unfair of my subconscious to do that to her.
Anyway - I rush out, still in jammies and put the box of suits and gloves into the car, just in case. John and James are, in fact, going to visit step-daughter, who lives in town with her family, and are dropping me off at the university on the way.
The weather is glorious, and the setting, on the leafy outskirts of Edinburgh is beautiful. We drive around the campus a bit, looking for the apiary and then spot a couple of space suited figures. Guessing that they could either be from the astrophysics department, or beekeepers, we head in that direction. Good guess - I recognise everyone, and find B waiting for her suit - C arrives a few moment later, and we all climb, giggling into our outfits, wondering if it should be wellies in or out of the trouser legs. Big Al, who knows all these things reckons on inside.
As we approach the apiary we have to pass inspection by F, who is required by all those university health and safety protocols to ensure the safety of all visitors. Then it begins. We are split into 2 groups, F leading ours, and the first task is lighting the smoker - a very important part of beekeeping equipment. F uses a few sheets from The Scotsman and a handful of wood shavings. The point is to get plenty of cool smoke - you don't want to torch your bees, but at the same time, you don't want your smoker to go out when you have the hive in pieces. The smoke makes the bees think their hive is threatened by fire, so they fill up on honey, and this makes them feel good and a bit drowsy, so they are less likely to sting. I wonder why it makes them drowsy - if I thought my house was burning, I don't think I would feel relaxed about it!
Anyway, my adrenalin rises as F hands me the smoker, with the instructions to keep pumping it every 15 seconds or so to stop it going out. I am almost overwhelmed by the responsibility, and have to hurry to catch up with the group as they head for a hive, squeezing assiduously as I go.
The main object of today's session is to see how to open a hive and to get to handle the frames. F is very good at explaining what she is doing while working and soon we are all gasping in wonder as she holds up a brood frame, pointing out pollen, honey capped and uncapped brood, and we crowd round to find the queen, marked with a green dot. The mysterious inner workings of a bee colony revealed, and suddenly, all I have learned so far begins to make sense.
I am not sure if it is because I impressed her by keeping the smoker alight so well, but F turns to me and says -" Do you want to take the next one out?" Nervously I take the hive tool - another indespensable item - and gingerly lift out the frame indicated. I feel clumsy in the gloves, but as hold the frame up and look at it, I feel a sense of calm. It is not as frantic as I expected, and it feels such a mindful and serene experience. The beekeeper has to be calm, measured and purposeful when handling the bees and show them utmost respect. Zen and the art of beekeeping. Of course, in this climate it is good to be quick as well as mindful, and the bees begin to headbutt us in protest, so we close up the hive. We walk away, brushing stray bees from each other, still amazed by what we have seen. Bees can sting you in more than one way!

Friday 1st May 2009

Mayday morn, and Al phones to say he will drop the beesuits off on his way into town. I have already arranged to take elder son to buy shoes, after discovering him walking around with a hole worn completely through the sole! I ask Al to leave the box in the garage, but he is not keen. We agree instead that I will pick them up at around 6 pm.
After tea, John, James and I drive down to Al's house which is around 3 miles away meandering over the winding roads to Falkirk. It is located in a former industrial Lord's country estate, and Al refers to his house as 'The Coo Shed' We find it easily enough, the 2 white WBC beehives in the garden being the main clue. Al answers the door, and we enthuse about the setting and the decorative inlaid slate on the rendering of the house. He invites us in for a look, and the house is very small - he and his wife were downsizing, but the rooms are light filled and with a glorious outlook. We chat for a while, gleaning interesting pieces of gossip about the eccentric owner of the 'Big Hoose'. Apparently her husband was a member of a very famous folk/rock band of the 1960s. My husband is terribly impressed, as he was a fan - the things that go on in your own backyard!
When James is in bed, I try on the bee suit. It is huge. I look like an Apollo astronaut. My family laugh, but I know they are impressed. Everyone has a go at trying it on - making Darth Vader noises, Neil Armstrong quotes etc. I pose for a photograph to post on my blog later and then fold the suit up carefully and put it in the box with the others ready for the next morning.

Monday 27th April 2009

After a week of illness, this morning sees me feeling much better. I realise with dismay that I have not let Al know my bee suit requirements - the first practical is on Saturday! I dash off an apologetic email and he replies almost instantly, with the request to give him my order at the class.
That evening I find myself sitting with other would-be lady beekeepers. To my relief, only one of our number has ordered her suit, and I feel the beginnings of a bond. We are divided into groups for the apiary visits, and we four find ourselves in Group C. Our first visit will be to the apiary of the fabulously gothic F and her partner M, whose hives are located at the science campus of the University.
Al reminds us that we cannot go on the visit without protective beewear and we still have time to order, as long as we can pick up the suits from his house on Friday. Al lives only 3 miles from me and as my new friend would have to travel in from Edinburgh, and the Borders, I offer to collect their suits and bring them to the apiary, and this is accepted appreciatively, We are a helpful lot, us beekeepers.
We continue to learn more about bee management, including the parts of the hive and the various types available. We are given a list of things to find out about at our visits - learning outcomes as they say in education these days. The theory is interspersed with personal insights and funny stories from Al and Big Al, and again the evening passes quickly. We leave chattering like school children - excitedly calling our good byes - "See you on Saturday!"

Monday 20th April 2009

My husband drives me into Edinburgh for the cheese and wine evening. He and James spend the evening with family who live nearby. I have been to the Botanics, but only walked round the Gardens. Al has said to go to the building with the 2 flagpoles, and I am surprised at the grandeur of the place. It does make me think of intrepid Victorian botanists combing the hills of China or Nepal for exotic plant species destined to become specimens in the glasshouses of the rich.
A receptionist directs me to the Lecture Theatre, and I walk through what seems like a mile of polished wooden panelled corridors. The theatre is a traditional tiered space with a wide desk at the front. There are already a large number of people seated, so I quickly find a chair. A paper is passed around and we add our names to the list of attendees. Several small meetings seem to be taking place between various members, but soon we are being called to attention by N, the association president. I note that N is the same beekeeper who had given me Al's details at the Highland Show.
This is the last of EMBA's Winter lecture series, and is usually the time when new members attending the beginners' class are invited to a welcome evening. This year, they are serving cheese and wine, and also teas, coffees and a delicious selection of home baking. Before the socialising, however, there are a few short presentations. We are welcomed by N, and then informed by the EMBA webmaster about the association website and other Internet and bee related issues. A lady from the Scottish Beekeepers' Association tells us about that body's role in beekeeping, and then the association librarian describes the Moir Library, which is the association's priceless collection of bee literature. Two of last year's beginners then give a presentation on their beekeeping progress. We newbies gasp in surprise as a black clad Gothic figure with a mane of jet hair covering her face (F), and a rather handsome tall young chap (M) come down the stairs and stand facing us. F addresses us in an impossibly high sing song voice, telling us, with the aid of a hugely magnified computer screen, about their attempts to start an apiary and the university where they both work. We are soon roaring with laughter as she describes the health and safety protocols they had to implement as well as making the apiary accessible to organised public visiting. M provides clarification on some of the issues, but for beginners they have a huge knowledge and enthusiasm for the art.
After enlightenment, refreshments. I am engulfed in one of the friendliest bunches of people it is possible to meet. I speak to several classmates. People come up and ask if I am new and whether I have bees yet. Big Al is there with his wife, and we recognise each other. We both sat outside a hall for on Saturday mornings for several years, while our daughters' attended ballet and tap lessons. Another of last year's beginners stops to chat - he has 2 hives, but has found a mentor in one of the older keepers. And so it goes on. As I am not driving, I am persuaded by a small white wine and a slice of fruit loaf - a fine combination.
All too soon it is time to leave, and my husband and son are waiting outside in the car. As we are leaving, Al asks us to email our bee suit requirements to him and he will order them in time for our first apiary visit. We drive home and I talk all the way about the wonders of this new world.

Tuesday 31st March

I pore over the contents of my purple folder. One of the items is a catalogue for BB Wear. Apparently, as our course fee includes membership of EMBA, we will qualify for the members' discount. I ponder endlessly over this - all in one full suit? smock and trousers with integral hood? without? separate hat? White, biscuit or light grey? And the gloves - where to start?
The list of members' contact details is interesting. I am amazed at how many beekeepers live reasonably close by. Both Al, and Big Al live less than 3 miles in opposite directions from me. I feel somewhat comforted by this and head down the garden with my new knowledge, to select my site.
On my Gardening blog, I have a long rambly post about my erstwhile rose garden. I decide that it is the perfect spot for 2 hives, 1 with bees, the other empty in case they swarm. Apparently they will swarm, according to our teachers, but we can easily deal with that by a manipulation called Artificial Swarming - to be covered in a later class. Sounds a bit alarming really, but I will reserve judgement until I have had some bee handling experience. The first practical class will not be until the 2nd May, and our next theory class is, in fact, a welcome cheese and wine for all us new members at the Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh after the Easter Break. Blimey - school was never like this!